


take care

by peachesandlesbians



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, No Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24547297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachesandlesbians/pseuds/peachesandlesbians
Summary: Claudine gets a visitor one late night.
Relationships: Claudine/Fabien Marchal
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	take care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionor/gifts).



> i binge-watched all three seasons of versailles (on netflix) and claudine/fabien was literally the best part of the show. i cannot forgive the writers for 2x06 because that BROKE me. so, this ship is my new fixation and otp. also this is dedicated to lionor because their own claudine/fabien fic was just as heartbreaking as THAT scene in 2x06. and, of course, i really loved it. enjoy !

Claudine propped herself up on her elbows, squinting at the door. She could’ve sworn she heard knocking, but when she listened closer, there was nothing. If it was a patient who needed medical assistance, they would’ve been pounding on the door or hollering. Perhaps it was just her imagination.

As she glanced out the window—nothing but the stars and pitch-black sky—she decided that yes, her mind was playing tricks on her. Her father always said that would happen if she didn’t go out into the fresh air and meet some dashing young man.

Well, Claudine did meet someone, but he was hardly dashing. Odd in an endearing way, but hardly dashing. Nor young, but she didn’t mind that at all. She pulled the blanket tighter around her, well aware of the smile that came to her face. Lately, Fabien entered her thoughts just as frequently as her work did. It was hardly unwelcome, merely surprising. 

Another series of knocks, clear as day. This time, she wasn’t imaging them. Claudine rushed out of bed, kicking the covers off, and yanked the door open just as the person was walking away.

Though the figure wasn’t showing their face, she knew who it was instantly. She would’ve recognized those broad shoulders, that impeccably straight posture, and those long locks of hair anywhere. 

“Fabien!” Claudine called out, instantly regretting her word of choice. Did he ever give her permission to use his first name? She couldn’t recall. With the rush of adrenaline that always accompanied his presence, she couldn’t find it in herself to care either way. 

Fabien turned in one slow motion and rubbed the hilt of his sword before asking, “How did you know it was me?”

She leaned against the door, shrugging with a small smile. “There is no one quite like you.”

“I see.”

Claudine’s brow furrowed. What did he see?  _ Was _ there anything to see? But making deductions out of nowhere was so Fabien that she couldn’t be surprised. Instead, she held out a hand. “Well, come inside. It’s freezing out here.”

“Yes.” Was it just her drowsy mind or did Fabien glance over her figure, lingering on the places her thin white nightgown clung to her? Any coldness she felt was replaced by a burning ache that threatened to make her do something silly, like run into his arms. 

“Are you coming or not?” Claudine beckoned, reaching out unnecessarily to grasp Fabian’s hand. 

He didn't reply but made no move to break their grasp. She took that as a good sign. Even though he was wearing gloves, the touch sent the heat from earlier rushing back.

The moonlight shining through the window helped Claudine light a candle. A little gasp left her when she saw spots of blood on Fabien’s face. 

“Are you hurt? Why didn’t you tell me?” Slipping into “doctor mode” was necessary to distract herself. It was completely unprofessional if she gave in to her fears and panicked. Fabien would be fine. She could fix his wound.

“It’s not my blood. My apologies. I must be a horrible sight.” Fabien made a gesture to take out his handkerchief, but Claudine stopped him. 

“No. You’re nothing like that.” To distract herself from her light blush, she gathered a cloth. She didn’t mean it in  _ that _ way. Well. She did, but not on purpose. “Here, let me.”

Dark brown—almost black—eyes followed her every move. Fabien’s face remained as unreadable as ever, but Claudine found that she wasn’t put off. As long as he knew he was safe, and she would take care of him, he could think all he wanted. 

“There.” Fabien was a handsome man either way, but she still preferred him clean and unbloody. “You’re not injured?”

“No.” With his attention squarely on her—not on the surroundings or clues—Claudine was left breathless. How could she ask him why he was here without sounding rude?

“Are you hungry?” 

Fabien shook his head and tugged at his gloves. Another interesting thing to file away. Usually, he didn’t fidget, instead preferring to cooly stare at his enemy, but right now, he moved to sit on the table in front of the fireplace. Claudine followed him, carefully laying her hand on his. That stilled him. One glove slowly came off. With no sound of protest, the other followed. 

It was silent in her little home, and when she met Fabien’s eyes, something in him softened. He was less … on-edge. More weary than anything else. 

His furrowed brow, his loneliness, and his silence just  _ screamed _ that he was tired. Melancholy. Confused, too, at her gentle care. 

“Come, Fabien.” Claudine ignored his questioning look and cradled the side of his face. For all his roughness and hard edges, his skin was surprisingly soft. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Claudine?” Fabien asked when they arrived in her bedroom. 

“I know.” And she did know what he didn’t—or couldn’t—say. There was nothing to be afraid of, no poison stashed away, no ulterior motive in her heart. Just tenderness. And love. “It’s late. I’m tired, and I can tell you are too. We both need to sleep.”

“Okay.” He still watched her as she unfastened his cloak, folding it then placing it on a nearby chair.

Next came his black overcoat which came off easily enough. But when her hands lowered to his belt, he held her wrists. Claudine’s cheeks reddened. She had done something wrong and embarrassed herself. And he was going to run off again because she pushed him too far. 

As if Fabien could sense her shame, he shook his head. “Hands as lovely as yours should not be sullied by weapons.”

His belt, sword, and dagger were placed on the desk, still within reach if needed. For her part, Claudine barely cared where they laid. She was too busy smiling at Fabien, relief filling her. “You’re quite the charmer under all that toughness.” 

“Only for you.” A faint, very faint smile.

His unbuttoned waistcoat gave way to a simple linen shirt and breeches. Finally, his neckerchief was the last to go. Stripped of his armour, Fabien looked smaller, vulnerable, like her. 

“Boots off, then climb in.” 

Another faint smile before Fabien quietly followed her orders. It was odd how silence was more common than speech, yet Claudine felt an intrinsic bond between them. Her undressing him wasn’t about lust or passion, just an offering of trust, really. Trust in revealing their soul. Trust in taking care of, and being taking care of.

Fabien let out a quiet sigh when he slipped into bed. If Claudine had any doubt about her actions, they disappeared when she saw how warmth broke through Fabien’s blank facade. 

“All good?”

“Claudine…” 

Tension made Fabien stiffen. In response, she pressed kisses to the underside of his jaw. “Hmm?”

“I barely know where to put my hands.” It was funny, and a little bit sweet, how this dangerous, confident man could act so flustered and hesitant. And she was the only one who would see it.

Claudine chuckled, moving his arm so it was over her waist. “Just like that. I don’t bite.” 

Fabien’s answering snort filled her with confidence, and she scooted closer to him. “I don’t bite,” she repeated, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “And you better not too.”

* * *

_ “I'll take care of you if you ask me to _

_ In a year or two”  _ — Take Care, Beach House

  
  



End file.
